309: The Joy of Sex
"The Joy of Sex"
Carrie Conners
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
-e.e. cummings
Killing time before a party, I open
my friend’s copy of The Joy of Sex
while she showers and find an e.e.
cummings poem that my ex used
to get me into bed. Despite fights
and his wholesome northern accent
those words made me flush, like they
were unbuttoning my shirt. Maybe
it’s the scent of my friend’s tea
rose shower gel, but now it all
seems too sweet, artificial as latex.
Chalk it up to bitterness (it’s been
a while) but thumbing through
the sketched characters with their
unlimited flexibility, their ability
to live upside-down without risk
of oxygen deficiency, the expert
instructions of how to rub what
and where that read like a car
owner’s manual make me
wonder how I ever fell in love
with a poem especially when
Amanda’s husband stares at Fox
News for hours every night instead
of watching her body unfold
like an arched wave nearing the shore
and gym-obsessed Eileen has
forgotten what the body is for
and I haven’t been really kissed
by a man in years, making me feel
very young and very old all at once like
the first time at anything always does.
On Friday I posted the e.e. cummings poem referenced here. Check it out. Also, after this, the onslaught of love poems will cease for a little while.
Carrie Conners
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
-e.e. cummings
Killing time before a party, I open
my friend’s copy of The Joy of Sex
while she showers and find an e.e.
cummings poem that my ex used
to get me into bed. Despite fights
and his wholesome northern accent
those words made me flush, like they
were unbuttoning my shirt. Maybe
it’s the scent of my friend’s tea
rose shower gel, but now it all
seems too sweet, artificial as latex.
Chalk it up to bitterness (it’s been
a while) but thumbing through
the sketched characters with their
unlimited flexibility, their ability
to live upside-down without risk
of oxygen deficiency, the expert
instructions of how to rub what
and where that read like a car
owner’s manual make me
wonder how I ever fell in love
with a poem especially when
Amanda’s husband stares at Fox
News for hours every night instead
of watching her body unfold
like an arched wave nearing the shore
and gym-obsessed Eileen has
forgotten what the body is for
and I haven’t been really kissed
by a man in years, making me feel
very young and very old all at once like
the first time at anything always does.
On Friday I posted the e.e. cummings poem referenced here. Check it out. Also, after this, the onslaught of love poems will cease for a little while.